


There's Plenty Of Time

by subtropicalStenella



Series: Just Guys Being Dudes [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, brojobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: 5 For 500 Prompt for PropheticFire: The Real Reason We All Love This Trope





	There's Plenty Of Time

He wakes up significantly warmer than he's been since even before they got grounded on this stupid planet, (thermoregulation is  _ hard  _ in the sucking vacuum of space) but just as uncomfortable, in a different way.  _ Dammit. _ He was finally warm and now he's probably going to have to get up to fix this. He shifts a little, rolling his hips, trying to make a little more room in his too-tight blacks, and Gunner's arms tighten around his chest and stomach, pulling him back into place. 

 

“Whuzmatter?” Gunner slurs, still half asleep. “N’mare?”

“‘m good. Woke up locked’n’loaded. Gonna hit the 'fresher,” he says, and starts to wiggle out if the blankets. 

 

Gunner grunts and pushes his forehead into the back of his neck, the hand on his stomach moving to push his sweater up, and then pull at the seal on his blacks.

 

“Dude, what…?”

“'s faster if I do it,” Gunner argues sleepily, shoving his hand down the front of his open blacks, callused fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, making his hips twitch forward.  _ Shit _ , that's nice but--

“Dude, knock it off. Gonna jizz on the blankets,” he hisses, squirming and swatting at Gunner's hands. “Fuckin  _ rude _ , they're super nice--”

 

Gunner grunts again, and grabs at his flailing hand, holding onto his wrist as he shifts farther down the bed, blankets bundled around his shoulders. It's still cold as hell in the room, but Gunner has it on lock, flipping the blankets back over his chest and shoving him onto his back. 

 

“ _ Oof _ \--or that, I guess,” he says, settling back shivering a bit at the sudden chill when Gunner snorts a laugh into his stomach and tugs his blacks down. 

“I got you, alright?” Gunner says, and grabs onto his other wrist, pinning him to the mattress and making his dick twitch, hard enough that it practically bounces off his stomach. See this is the advantage off telling your wingman about all the crazy shit you like. Tell him about the time that Coruscant Guard broke out the magcuffs and blew your damn brain out the back of your head? He's gonna fuckin  _ remember _ , and wrap his hands around your wrists, holding you still while he mouths the tip of your dick. 

“ _ Fuck,  _ Guns--” 

 

Gunner's mouth is  _ hot  _ after the too-cool air of the room, the flat of his tongue pressed to the underside of his cock, head bobbing slowly. One of these days he needs to find that fucking idiot 212th lieutenant, grab him by the fucking shoulders and fucking  _ shake  _ him because how the  _ shit  _ could he give a guy like Gunner up, not want to see that sweet face and sweeter, shy smile looking up at him every damn chance they got. Or the bomber pilot in the 315th that fucking  _ cheated  _ on him. Broke his heart. Fucking idiots. Fucking-- _ fuck! _

 

“Oh fuck, Gunner,  _ fuck--” _

 

And  _ that,  _ shit, that thing with his tongue, flexing slowly, the very tip tracing small circles over the insanely sensitive bit just under his cockhead on every slow upstroke. Shit fuck  _ shit,  _ Gunner was kind of guy that could and  _ would _ fuck your ass right into the damn wall given half the chance but fuckin hells his head game was  _ insane  _ when he got in the mood.

He’s breathing harder now, harsh and ragged, fighting to keep still, keep from snapping his hips up, fucking Gunner's sweet soft  _ hot  _ mouth but Gunner  _ hates  _ that so he won't, he  _ won't  _ but fuck it feels so fucking good. His hands get lost in the blankets, twisting and clawing at them, fighting Gunner's grip on his wrists just for the sake of it, just to feel his strength as heat starts to wind tighter, low in his gut.

 

“Gunner, Gunner  _ fuck, Guns, babe, fuck--” _

 

Gunners hands slide down from his wrists, fingers finding his in the tangle and lacing together as he comes,  _ hard _ , curling up and forward with a hoarse, ragged gasp, Gunner swallowing easily around him through the aftershocks. 

 

He flops back down with a pained whine as Gunner sits up, not a drop spilled on the blankets. 

 

“Called me  _ babe _ ,” Gunner says, snickering as he settles back down behind him, pulling the blankets back around them. 

“Shit, sorry. Surprised I didn't call you  _ god  _ or some shit, you're fuckin  _ good  _ at that,” he laughs raggedly, fixing his blacks. “You want…?”

Gunner shakes his head, already half asleep again. “Nah, owed you one from last week or something.”

“Last time was cos I owed  _ you _ , my dude.”

“Eh. Why do we even keep track anymore?” 

“Dunno. Habit?”

“'S dumb.”

“Yeah. You want one later, let me know.”

Nope, he's asleep. Guy can fall asleep standing up if he wants. It's _adorable._

 


End file.
